The Captain Always Takes Command
by Cumberbatch Critter
Summary: As Commander, it is Spock's job to oversee and assist his Captain. However, when Spock falls ill with a very human illness, it's up to Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy to return him to full health. Still, Vulcan illness can be difficult... especially when one works aboard the Enterprise. There's never time to rest.
1. It Isn't Anything Worth Mentioning

**The Captain Always Takes Command**

James might have been regarded as a fool once in his life- and maybe even regarded as a fool now- but he was anything but foolish. He was Captain of a well-regarded ship, he had navigated his crew out of danger and saved countless lives in the meantime. So, he might have been regarded as a fool, but he knew better.

He had made reckless decisions, but not believing in no-win situations did that. And if he could win instead of lose, why shouldn't he make that reckless decision? There was no reason to turn tail and run when there was hope.

However... Reckless decisions were not always smiled upon, and for those decisions, there was his Commander to tell him to tone it down.

Except, right now, he wasn't there.

Kirk irritably drummed his fingers against his Captain's chair, waiting impatiently for his second in command to join him in the bridge. The Vulcan was usually a stickler for rules- being on time- but now he was running late. It irked Captain Kirk more than he cared to admit. (He was always running late, so he didn't have room to complain.)

The bridge door slid open with its familiar _whooshing_ noise.

"Apologies, Captain," said the familiar monotone voice. "I find myself to be running late."

"Apparently," James replied, sitting up. "Did you oversleep?"

Spock seemed to pause. "I did," he said slowly.

"Happens to the best of us," James said cheerfully. "Well, it normally doesn't happen to you, but, you know..."

"I know what?" Spock inquired.

James sighed, shaking his head. Teaching human mannerisms to a Vulcan- half-Vulcan although he may be- was like trying to pull teeth from a shark. "Nothing."

"Illogical. I know a remarkable amount of things."

"Whatever you say."

* * *

It was by 1720 hours that James noticed something was wrong.

Spock was barely moving. He was usually sitting ramrod straight, shoulders square, and his head held high. But now, his shoulders were slightly slumped (probably not noticeable to anyone but James, who flew with this Vulcan every mission), his eyes were distant, and he seemed slow to answer any of Kirk's questions.

"Excuse me," Spock said, very quickly getting to his feet.

"Alright," James said, looking over his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I said excuse me."

James was left staring at the door as Spock strode away.

* * *

Spock meticulously washed his hands, rubbing his face afterwards. Vomiting was one of the least pleasant things that he had ever experienced, so it was explainable that he try to stop it before it began. But after ten hours of flight, he couldn't stave off the nausea and had to excuse himself from his Captain.

He sighed heavily and stepped out of the bathroom.

He dreaded going back to the bridge. He knew that Kirk had now realised that something was happening, that something was bothering Spock. Spock didn't want to complain- it was a trivial thing, this cold or flu and, therefore, required no special attention.

He returned to the bridge.

"Apologies," he murmured. "I was assailed by sudden illness."

The truth was better, was it not, in such a situation. The Captain couldn't be angry with him when it was a matter of physical health and he would hopefully not question too far into the endeavours if he just said that he was ill.

James's eyebrows hitched up. "Ill? As in physically ill? With the common cold?"

"Common colds are not quite so common for Vulcans," Spock said quietly, sinking back into his chair.

His body was aching. He was sure that it was as warm as it ever was in the bridge, but he was dangerously on the edge of starting to shiver. Cold chills were attacking his body, making him wish that he was curled back up in his bed- an odd thought in itself, seeing as how he always liked to keep himself busy. He felt slow and sluggish, like his brain was working double-time to keep up with the day's demands, and it was giving him a dull throbbing beneath his temples in the process.

Headaches, he was used to. Captain Kirk, when he had only been Cadet Kirk, had given him headaches all the time. (And he still gave him headaches occasionally.) But this was a different kind of headache.

This was all consuming ache that made him want to go back to bed.

"Spock!"

Spock flinched slightly, looking at his Captain. "Were you speaking?"

"So much for you listening to everything," James muttered.

"I am sorry?"

"No, you're not. You're sick. You should be sleeping. If you're feeling unwell, that is," Kirk said, looking between the screens and Spock.

"I believe that I already ascertained that I am feeling unwell," Spock said immediately.

"Go rest. I can manage."

"No," Spock said quickly, "it is quite unnecessary-"

"Commander," Kirk said sternly. "That's an order."

Spock stared at Kirk for a miserable moment before sighing. "Yes, Captain. Forgive me."

"For being sick? Honestly, lighten up."

Not entirely grasping what Jim was telling him, Spock stood and made an effort to pick up his feet as he walked back to his quarters.

* * *

**AN: So... I'm new to _Star Trek_. What with _Into Darkness_ being released, I figured, better watch the first one. And the first one's brilliant. So, now I'm a 'Trekkie', although I still have lots and lots to learn. That being said: I don't know if Vulcans can get sick. I've seen a few fics were Spock is sick, but I don't know if they're reliable to the original _Star Trek_ or just sick!fic for the sake of being a sick!fic. I figure since Spock is _half_-Vulcan, making him sick could be explained.**

**What I'm saying is: if it explains somewhere in the _Star Trek_ universe that Vulcans _cannot_, in fact, get sick... I'm sorry. But. Sick!fics are my 'speciality' and I adore Spock.**

**As mentioned, I'm new to the fandom, so please do point out _Trek_ universe errors so I can fix them.**

**I do not own _Star Trek_. Reviews are always appreciated, especially on a first foray into a new fandom! Thanks!**


	2. SICKbay is for the SICK, Spock

Spock was ill. He had a cold. Or flu. (Kirk really hoped it wasn't flu. He was around his Commander all the time and he didn't want the germs.) Maybe it was a Vulcan thing. Vulcan cold? Vulcan flu? Maybe it was food poisoning. (Kirk hoped it wasn't that, either.) Incidentally, did Vulcans even have their own Vulcan sicknesses? Kirk didn't remember learning anything about it at the Academy, but, then again, he had had more pressing matters to think about than what kind of diseases Vulcans could contract.

Still, contagious or not, Kirk thought that he ought to check up on his Commander.

With that thought in mind, he headed towards the Sickbay.

"Bones, what's up?" he greeted, stepping into Sickbay. "And how's the Commander?"

Doctor McCoy looked up, magnifying len in one hand and a hypo in the other. "You mean the pointy-eared bastard?"

James gave him a sour look before casting his gaze around the Sickbay. "You know as well as I that he isn't as brittle as we thought. And he's my Commander now. He also happens to be sick, Bones; so, how is he?"

Bones snorted, looking back at the hypo. "I ain't had no green-blooded hobgoblin in today, Jim."

"Okay," James said, looking at Bones again. "Jokes aside, really, where is he?"

"Jokes aside, _Captain_, but I wouldn't miss the pompous know-it-all if he tried to sneak in when my back was turned. He hasn't been here."

The lines of frustration cluttering Kirk's forehead turned to those of worry, his eyebrows knitting together as he frowned. "But he's ill. I dismissed him from the bridge hours ago."

"He didn't come here," Bones said seriously. "Check his quarters."

Sighing, James turned and strode out, immediately making for the Commander's quarters. Of course Spock would avoid going to Sickbay, where it would take one hypo to be done with the illness. Of course Jim would have had to give him a direct command to go to Sickbay before Spock thought that he was ill enough to _merit_ a trip to Sickbay.

"Pointy-eared bastard," Jim muttered, striding to Spock's quarters.

The door whooshed open and Kirk let himself into the Commander's quarters without announcing or asking.

He was much surprised, upon entering Spock's chambers to find the Vulcan curled up in his bed. At least, Jim thought that he was curled up; Spock was buried so far under the blankets that it was hard to tell.

The blue shirt was folded neatly at the end of the bed and the boots were placed directly in the center of the floor in front of Spock's footboard. Trust a sick Vulcan to care about propriety. Jim just put his clothes wherever they happened to land when he finally stripped down to his boxers to crawl into bed each night. He didn't even get out of his uniform if he was too tired or felt sick. Trust Spock to always be fastidious.

"Spock?"

There was a flurry of movement from the blankets and a moment later, apprehensive (and dare Kirk say, _embarrassed_) hazel eyes were staring up at him.

"Captain. How can I be of assistance?" Spock intoned, trying to push the blankets away.

"You can assist yourself by going to Sickbay, like you were supposed to," Jim said, fixing his first officer with a stern gaze.

Spock merely frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. "I was not given orders to go to Sickbay."

"People go to Sickbay when they're sick, Spock, it's just common sense," Kirk replied exasperatedly.

Spock looked up at him, hands still clutching the edge of the blanket. He looked unsure if he was expected to respond or, perhaps, actually get out of bed and go to Sickbay.

Kirk sighed. "It just takes one hypo and you'll be feeling better. I'm sure you'd rather be at your best than curled up in bed."

Spock sighed. "The cure for the common cold via hypospray is less effective on a Vulcan than it is on a human. Therefore, it may cause more harm than good when it involves my getting a 'quick-fix' for the illness. Besides, Vulcanian strains of illness are more resilient than human's, meaning that I may have a hypospray for no reason. Already feeling unwell as it is, I choose to not experience more pain than I already am."

"A hypo isn't going to help here?"

"It is statistically unlikely," Spock replied. He paused unnaturally, fingers unclenching from around the blanket. His face seemed to go a barely noticeable shade more pale. "Excuse me," he murmured, pushing the blankets away and getting to his feet. "I am assailed by the excessive urge to vomit once again."

Jim took a hasty step back as Spock slunk off to the en-suite bathroom. The sounds that reached his ears a moment later made him wince. Clearly, Spock did _not_ just have the common cold. It was the flu, if the vomiting proved anything.

"Son of a bitch," Jim muttered. He reached for his communicator and put in a call to McCoy. "Bones, have you got a flu vacc hypo?"

_"Flu vaccine? What sort?"_

"No idea."

_"Can't tell you if I have if I don't know what you need treated."_

"Well," Kirk said as the toilet flushed in the bathroom, "I think it's flu and, whatever type, Spock's got it."

_"So, Spock's really sick. I thought that maybe he just faked it to get out of listening to your idiotic command decisions."_

"I would never do that," Spock said as he walked back into the room. He looked impossibly more pale, a sheen of sweat across his brow. "I do not walk away from my Captain, no matter how... tactless his decisions may be."

"Thanks," James said dryly. "Bones?"

_"I have the general strain of flu vacc. Are you prepping yourself?"_

"I should, I guess," Kirk said, glancing at Spock.

The Vulcan was hovering next to the bed, his hand flat against the wall for support. He looked sick and tired, but he wasn't getting back in bed, either.

"At ease, Commander," Kirk said, waving his hand to tell him to rest.

Spock nodded once and returned to his heap of blankets.

_"Jim, stop by when you get the chance. Spock, I don't suppose you'll take a hypo."_

"It would seem an unhealthy choice of action, Doctor McCoy," Spock murmured from his curled up position in bed.

_"Yeah, whatever. Just don't give the rest of the crew this! By rights, I should be vaccinating everyone since there's been an outbreak... Just what I need. Crew rushing in to get vaccinated; people showing up, puking up their guts. Great..."_

Spock swallowed audibly.

Jim took another step away. "Alright, Bones, thanks. I'll stop by later." He flipped his communicator closed, looking to Spock. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I never said that I was alright. I am, indeed, ill," Spock replied, voice muffled by the duvet.

"I _did_ notice that." Jim paused. "Do you... need anything? Any Vulcan remedies for the flu that I can help with?"

"I will be fine, Captain."

"Okay. Well." Without anything else to do, Kirk brought his hands together cheerfully and started for the door. "Call me if you need anything."

"Affirmative."

* * *

**AN: Wow, there's more support for this than I expected. Thank you! Especially thanks to the people who offered advice and their Trek knowledge to help me piece this story together. Many thanks.**

**Obviously, I wouldn't have a sick!fic if Spock just got a hypo and got better. So... less hypo and more TLC needed in this story. And for those who would like to see other characters than Jim taking care of Spock, you will. Uhura makes an appearance as well as Bones, and I would love to bring in Scotty at some point.**

**As usual, I do not own _Star Trek_. Thank you!**


	3. Doctor McCoy and His Medicine

Spock sniffled quietly, succumbing to drawing his nose across his sleeve. It was a disgusting thing, but tissues, if they had any at all, were most likely in the storage unit and he had no desire to get out of bed, much less walk across the Enterprise.

Standing led to dizziness and dizziness led to vomiting. The vomiting led to extended periods of nausea and pain within the stomach area. The pain just added onto an extensive list of aches and pains that Spock was currently suffering from.

He tucked his face into the crook of his arm to muffle his sneeze.

He didn't get ill often, but when he did, it was really one of the most terrible experiences.

The one time he remembered being ill was when he'd gotten food poisoning from eating some dish from a different planet that involved red meat. He'd only accepted that dinner to be polite, given that he didn't have much of a taste for anything meat-related, and it had ended poorly.

He had had more experiences with illness, obviously, but that was most memorable.

And this. This was memorable now, because he was supposed to be doing something and he just... was too ill to even fathom the idea. It was... unacceptable.

Approximately seven point three hours had gone by since Captain Kirk had stopped by. He would be waking up very soon, having a shower, getting dressed, having breakfast, and reporting to the bridge. Spock should have been already in the bridge by now... but he hoped that, since the Captain had dismissed him yesterday, he had dismissed him until the symptoms of the illness had run its course. He didn't want to miss work, but he didn't want to get out of bed, either.

His communicator blipped.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, he grabbed it and flipped it open.

"Yes?"

_"You didn't tell me that you were sick."_

Spock sighed heavily as Uhura's voice filtered into his otherwise silent room. He had dreaded the Lieutenant finding out about his illness. He was honestly surprised that the Captain hadn't told her yet, that news hadn't travelled. Or perhaps it had and she had simply decided to let him sleep last night. Either way, he actually dreaded speaking with her.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," he said tolerantly.

_"Don't 'good morning' me, Spock! You couldn't be bothered to tell me that you were sick? I step away from the bridge and when I come back, you were gone. I_ assumed_ that Kirk sent you to do something, but now I find out you have the _flu_? You are not allowed to 'good morning' me!"_

Spock closed his eyes, gripping his pillow and pulling it closer.

_"Spock?"_

"Your voice is grating on my oversensitive eardrums."

_"Really mature, Spock. I'm just trying to make sure that you're alright, beside myself with worry because no one is telling me-"_

"Nyota," Spock interrupted weakly. "I am being serious."

A pause. And then: _"Oh, sorry. Have you had any medication?"_ she said, voice quieter.

"I have not," Spock replied. "Unlike with humans, hyposprays-"

_"- can affect Vulcans in different ways and may not help at all,"_ Uhura interrupted. _"I'm aware, but you need to try something, Spock."_

"Rest is most beneficial to those of my kind."

Another pause. _"Are you sure you're alright?"_

Those were exactly the same words that the Captain had used in his question posed to him earlier. Spock was beginning to wonder if it was a human sentiment of some sort that he simply did not understand.

"I will be fine, Lieutenant. I assure you." Spock coughed, burying his face in his pillow.

The sore throat, the cough, the sneezes and sniffles had all started this morning. Last night it had been the body aches, the cold, the dizziness and vomiting. But all of those symptoms in one body- Spock's body- made him loathe the human part of his make-up. It also made him loathe the Vulcan part of his genetics; they were the reason medication was less effective on him.

_"If you say so..."_

Uhura sounded distracted. She was most likely on duty now.

"Return to your duties, Lieutenant. I will rest in the meantime."

_"Sorry. Sulu needs me."_

"Do not worry. Spock out."

Spock threw the communicator onto the bedside table, sighing heavily. It turned into a weak cough and he contemplated the idea of going to Sickbay to find a proper cough suppressant.

Instead, he curled up tightly in a ball, wallowing in his sickness and the fact that he couldn't do the one job that he was assigned to: being Commander.

His door swooshed open.

Spock pried his tired eyes open, trying to sit up.

"No, don't you move."

Spock resisted the urge to sigh, but permitted himself a brief moment to close his eyes and collect himself, before turning to face Doctor Leonard McCoy.

"How can I help you, Doctor?"

McCoy took his tricorder in hand, holding it centimeters from Spock's face. "You've got the damn flu, man, and you won't come to Sickbay. Well, Sickbay's comin' to you. Shit, your fever's high, Spock. I'm going to give you something."

"I'm not sure that it will help," Spock admitted.

"Nausea and vomiting." McCoy nodded to himself, not seeming to hear Spock. "Fever. Chills. Body aches. All symptoms of the flu. I'll give you a hypo. It may not help much, but it certainly won't hurt."

"It could make me more nauseous."

"Yes, that is a possibility."

Before Spock had time to say anything, there was the sharp pinch of a hypo in his upper arm.

"There," McCoy said, stepping back. "I'm going to stick around to see how that affects you. If you start feeling worse, immediately tell me. Let me get a cloth for your forehead."

"A cloth?" Spock echoed. "I do not understand."

"A _cold_ cloth, Spock, for your overheated forehead."

Spock gave a noise of understanding, curling up more under the duvet. "And this will potentially help my elevated temperature?"

McCoy returned with a dripping cloth that he folded up and placed on Spock's forehead. He was assailed by the cold water trickling down his temple and he raised a hand to wipe away the water. It was not pleasant, given that he was already freezing cold (although not literally, even if it felt like it).

"It's called a fever, Spock, and yes, it may help."

Spock settled further into the pillows, opting not to respond. It took all of three minutes before his stomach started churning painfully. He made to sit up, the cloth falling partially over his forehead before the Doctor caught it, pressed it back against his forehead, and pushed him down again. Spock swallowed, trying to ignore the jolt in his stomach.

"Doctor-"

"You need to be _resting_."

Severely wishing that he could say his sentiment- _It is regrettable that I must move, but it is necessary that I find myself within the vicinity of a toilet or bin within the next few moments_- but being unable to, Spock settled with firmly pressing his hand over his mouth and sitting up again.

"Oh. Sorry."

The next thing Spock knew, his wastepaper basket (already pleasantly lined with a plastic bag) was in his hands and he curled over it, vomiting up copious amounts of liquid, digested food, and bile.

"Doctor," he said, when he had gotten his breath back, "I would rather think it best if you leave now."

McCoy raised his eyebrows. "Are you positive?"

"I am sufficient enough to take care of myself," Spock said, setting the bin down next to the bin. "Your care has been well-received."

McCoy nodded, although the worry was visible in his eyes. "Let us know if anything changes. Someone'll be by to check on you later."

"It is not necessary, Doctor."

"Well, _I'm_ the doctor and _I_ think it's necessary, so necessary it shall remain," McCoy said. "So, get some rest for now. Check-up later."

"I will look forward to it, Doctor."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Now you're just being cheeky, you sarcastic bastard."

"I do not wish to be sarcastic," Spock said. "I have heard that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit and I do not wish to stoop to such levels..." he murmured, snuggling under the blankets again.

* * *

**I read that Vulcans are, by nature, vegetarians, although they will accept non-vegetarian dishes on occasion. Hyposprays, accordingly to what I've read, are generally given in the upper arm and _not_ the neck, like they did in the JJ Abrams movies, although both are acceptable. So, that's me explaining a bit.**

**McCoy in this chapter for those who like him. Uhura makes another appearance later, so if you like the Uhura/Spock relationship, there's a bit of that. Jim keeps tabs on Spock, as would be expected, and Scotty and Chekov make a brief appearance.**

**I do not own _Star Trek_. Thank you!**


	4. Fine is Unacceptable

"Spock. Commander!"

Spock flinched awake and Jim couldn't help the twinge of apologetic amusement that flitted through his mind.

"Yes, Captain?" Spock mumbled, struggling to push the blankets away.

"Sorry," Jim apologised. "Don't get up. I brought you... Well, it smells like-" he pondered over a fitting word, couldn't find one, and settled with- "shit, but apparently it's good for you."

Spock peered at Jim. "If it smells similar to fecal matter, I can hardly assume that it will be beneficial to my health."

Kirk snorted. "Alright. It doesn't smell like shit. It doesn't really smell like _anything_ and it tastes infinitely worse. Plomeek soup," he clarified.

"Oh." If Jim didn't know better, he would have thought that Spock sounded surprised. "Where did you acquire the knowledge about Vulcan dishes from?"

"I patched communication through to New Vulcan to see if there was anything to help my first officer."

"Why..." Spock trailed off, sitting up.

"Because, despite how irritating you can really be, it's really quite lonely without my commander in the bridge."

"You are surrounded by other people in the bridge," Spock said, sounding confused. "How is it lonely when there are other people? I do not understand."

Jim knew that Spock didn't understand a _lot_ to do with emotion, but it still made him want to bash his head into a wall when Spock said something stupid like that. It wasn't his fault- he had grown up around Vulcans, had been trained to repress emotion, so what could he expect?- but it was still annoying. How did he explain that he was trying to say that he _missed_ Spock?

"Er- nevermind. You should probably eat this before it gets cold. Or before it gets even worse. Although I'm not sure how it could get worse."

"Agreed, Captain. I will take it."

James carefully handed the bowl of soup to Spock and, after the Vulcan had managed to balance it, quickly pressed his hand against Spock's forehead.

"I am assuming that this motion has something to do with my overheated skin. You are assumingly testing my temperature, am I correct?"

"Yes, I am," Jim said, removing his hand. "And you're sweating like pig."

"I am not at all feeling this warmth," Spock replied, the spoon clinking against the bowl. "Although Doctor McCoy stated that my fever was quite high."

"Yeah, you're hot, alright," Jim muttered, wiping his hands on his pants. "He said he gave you meds, but I don't see where it helped. Hang on-"

Jim looked more closely at Spock. He was sweaty and pale, but there seemed to be a flush of colour across his cheeks. That colour looked... well, green.

"Spock... you're turning _green_."

Spock glanced at him. "Pardon me?"

"Green," Kirk repeated. "Your cheeks are flushed green."

"My blood is copper-based. It appears green in colour," Spock said, raising a spoonful of soup to his lips. "Should you have not learned this in Academy, Captain?"

Kirk shrugged. "I probably wasn't paying attention," he said jokingly. "I mean, I was focussed on passing your designed-to-fail test."

"Yes," Spock murmured, twisting his spoon thoughtfully. "I still do not understand how you managed to pass my impassable test. Or why you went to such trouble to do so."

"Some things you will simply _never_ understand," Kirk replied, smiling.

(He was still pretty damn smug about that test from the Academy. Pretty damn smug and pretty damn proud of himself. He couldn't deny it and he wouldn't try to.)

"I must admit that the idea of never understanding frightens me," Spock murmured, drawing his spoon through his soup.

The tone that Spock took made Jim rethink what Spock's possible temperature may be, and the effect it may have on his superior Vulcan mind. He sounded so distant, so un-Spock-like... He sounded almost vulnerable and that was not how Spock ever sounded.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, watching his first officer carefully.

"I believe that I am unable to consume any more of this soup, Captain. I apologise for the inconvenience."

Jim frowned, but took the bowl back. "Your temperature's gone up again. You're looking-" do not say _green around the gills_, Jim- "gross, Spock. You look gross."

"As you say, I feel 'gross'," Spock said, curling up again. Jim could practically hear the air quotation marks around the word. "But do not bother the good doctor. I am fine."

The word rung somewhere in Jim's mind, although he couldn't remember why. He'd probably remember later, when it really didn't matter. No matter. It was probably something stupid. It probably wasn't important at all... right?

"'Good doctor'? Since when do you call Bones our 'good doctor'?"

"He is the best CMO that the U.S.S. Enterprise has ever experienced. He is a talented doctor, is all," Spock said, his voice lethargic. "I estimate that I will be asleep within three point seven minutes if we continue talking and less if we don't, Captain."

"Would you stop with the 'Captain' stuff? We're not on the bridge and we're not on assignment. We're just... two members of Starfleet right now," Jim said pathetically.

It was awkward, for some reason, to say that he and Spock were friends. They _were_ friends, but Jim wasn't entirely sure that Spock reciprocated the sentiment. He was sure that Spock saw him as something more than an acquaintance, but a friend? Did Spock understand the emotion behind friendship? Jim didn't know and it made it awkward to say.

"Starfleet. Yes... Jim," Spock murmured.

Jim sighed. "Get some sleep, Spock. I'll get Bones to check up on you."

Spock didn't respond. He had already fallen asleep.

* * *

Jim lay awake.

He folded his arms beneath his head. He really didn't need to be laying here; he needed to be asleep and resting because they had a developing planet to analyze tomorrow and he really needed his rest if he planned on getting into trouble (and he always did, so he was just planning ahead).

But he couldn't sleep.

"Damn it, Pointy..." he muttered, rubbing his eyes and rolling onto his side.

Of course it was Spock's fault that Jim was awake worrying. Jim didn't _worry_- okay, he worried a bit if there was a situation bad enough to warrant worry- but he didn't usually worry about... people. He had always been independent and it was a hard habit to break.

He was sure that Spock would be fine, but it still made...

Wait. _Fine._

Spock had said he was fine.

That wasn't right. Hadn't Spock said something about that word before?

_"There are many variable definitions to the word 'fine', Captain. Being 'fine' is simply unacceptable."_

He didn't even remember the context of the conversation. That didn't stop him from throwing the blankets off and fumbling for his clothes.

He stepped into his pants and threw his shirt on, hurrying for the door. He sent Bones a call on the communicator- one of which the CMO did not respond to- as he dashed to the Commander's quarters.

"Spock," he called, letting himself into Spock's room. "Lights on!"

Spock didn't wake up upon Jim's intrusion, which was probably just as well. He would have tried to act like he was fine. Sure, he might be fine, but he surely wasn't _good_.

Jim hovered his hand over Spock's forehead, finding the warmth radiating from his green-flushed skin worrisome. The flush, as it were, had gotten more prominent. Clearly the fever had gone up.

"... Jim? What are you doing...?" Spock murmured, shifting slightly.

"Sorry," Kirk said. "But you're really sick. We need to go to Sickbay. Now."

"I do not wish-"

"I really don't care, Spock. Sickbay. That's an order."

Spock's eyes didn't seem to comprehend the idea, but his consciousness knew an order even if he was as sick as a dog. Jim watched as Spock pushed the blankets away, swung his legs out of bed.

"Lights, 40%," Spock muttered, and the lights dimmed accordingly. "My eyes are sensitive," he explained weakly. "And I am experiencing a migraine."

"Great," Jim muttered, more to himself. "I'm still trying to get Bones. He must be asleep..."

"Do not bother-"

"I am bothering him," Jim said, walking to the side of the bed as Spock struggled with his command uniform. "Don't bother putting that on, Spock. Jeez."

Spock ignored him, slowly managing to get the blue shirt over his head and his arms through the correct sleeves.

"Come on, Bones," Jim muttered, once again trying to call him.

He had just glanced up in annoyance as Bones didn't answer once again. It was good luck, because Jim watched as Spock's eyes rolled back.

"Spock!"

Jim managed to lunge forward and catch the Vulcan as he fell.

He was much heavier than Jim anticipated and, while he managed to get his arms around him, the combined weight put his own legs out from under him. He landed hard on the floor, wincing as he did, keeping his arms tightly around Spock.

"Spock! Spock, _Commander_!" Jim shook the Vulcan's shoulder, to no avail. "Damn it!"

Spock's head pillowed against Jim's chest, he kept one arm around the Vulcan to stop him from rolling onto the floor.

It was around this time that Bones finally responded to the communicator's demands.

_"Damn it, Jim. It's three in the morning. Stop calling me!"_

"Bones, I need your med tricorder and a hypo, _now_!"

There was a pause before _"Is he conscious?"_

"No. He just passed out. Temp's up sky-high, radiating heat and flushed a terrible green. Heart rate elevated, sickly pale."

_"I'll be right there. Try to get him awake."_

Bones's voice vanished and left Kirk in absolute silence. He stared down at the mussed black hair, the pale skin, the green flush, felt the wheezing breaths that Spock was taking.

Jim was used to trouble with the Enterprise. He wasn't used to trouble with his Commander (not like this) and he was left feeling slightly helpless.

It was definitely not a good feeling.

* * *

**I'm slowly working my way into the original Trek fandom, so I'm learning more about Vulcans and Vulcan culture. (And _Amok Time_ was just absolutely brilliant, if I can say so myself.) So, while there's obvious changes between TOS and Abrams, it's nice to be able to include little nods to the brilliance of the 60s. Like Plomeek soup. ****(Thanks to those who did mention that in their earlier reviews, too.) **

**Thanks to the reviewer who mentioned 'fine has variable definitions'. I had no idea what you were talking about until I re-watched the 2009 movie and had an epiphany.**

**To the reviewer who asked if this is a Spock/Kirk story, this is simply a _Star Trek_ story. I feel like the entire Enterprise is one big family, so I really don't ship _anyone_ in Trek (and certainly not Uhura/Spock), so, no, this is not a Spock/Kirk. Just lots of h/c and fluffy stuff and some action in awhile.**

**I do not own _Star Trek_. Thank you!**


	5. The Healing Power of Maybe-Friends

He felt disconnected from his mind.

Spock slowly tried to pry his eyes open, but his motor function seemed to be less than sufficient. He squeezed his eyes together, feeling frown lines fold his forehead. Finding his fingers after a moment, he managed to curl his fingers into a fist.

"Meester Spock?"

A thick Russian accent cut through the silence. Chekov, then. But why was Chekov with Spock at the moment? The last thing that Spock remembered, he had fallen asleep after consuming Plomeek soup.

"Meester Spock, you are in ze Medical Bay. Can you 'ear me?"

Spock struggled with his eyes for another moment. He felt his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. Why was it such a battle to open his eyes?

"Nurze Chapel, can you find me Doctor MeeCoy? Tell heem zat Meester Spock iz waking up."

After a few more seconds, Spock was greeted with artificial light from the medical bay as he opened his eyes. Colours swam into place and soon he was able to see the worried face of the Russian teenager watching him.

"Meester Spock?"

"... Ensign Chekov..." Spock mumbled, now attempting to make his mouth form words, logical words, that were so important. "Ensign, why are... what happened?"

His mind was sluggish, foggy. It was difficult to find his bearings and he wished that the fog would clear so he could think properly and comprehend what was happening.

"You have been wery seeck, Commander. Captain Kirk and company 'az been watching you."

Spock sighed, slowly drawing in a deep breath. Sick. Yes. He had the flu, or some experienced strain of it. How did he get to Sickbay? Somehow, _Jim_ seemed to be the answer, although Spock couldn't remember if it even had been him.

"Chekov, I've got it. Back to the Bridge!"

Another voice. Who was this? Think, Spock, think. Not Jim. Logically speaking... Doctor McCoy?

"Spock? How are you feeling?" McCoy asked as he came into view. "Jim and I brought you here earlier this morning. Do you remember?"

Spock shook his head slightly. He was met with resounding pain from the slight movement. "I do not, Doctor McCoy," he said.

"That doesn't surprise me. Your fever jumped to a dangerous temperature," McCoy said, waving his tricorder in front of him. "It's gone down now. I gave you a few more hypos and it's finally seemed to help... Whether that's the hyposprays or just you, I don't know. Doesn't matter, either, as long as you feel better."

"I am mentally unfit," Spock said slowly. "I feel very sluggish and foggy."

"You should go back to sleep," McCoy stated. "I can give you something if you want."

The medical bay door whooshed open. "_Damn it_, Bones! I told you to call me when he woke up!" said a familiar voice.

"That damn Russian..." McCoy sighed. "He just woke up, Jim. Relax."

"Spock. How are you feeling?" Jim said, leaning over the biobed.

Spock turned his head slightly, looking up at him. "I have been better, Captain."

"Spock?"

Yet another voice echoed his name and Spock instinctively looked to the doorway as it opened. Uhura strode into the room.

"Spock, you're awake," she said, taking his face in her hands. He relished in the warmth of someone else's skin. "I heard about last night. How are you feeling?"

"Worrying is frowned upon, Lieutenant. I will be healthy soon, thanks to Doctor McCoy."

"Oh, stop, you're making me blush," McCoy said, sarcasm layering his voice.

"You should have mentioned that you were feeling sick, Spock," Uhura murmured, pressing her lips to his forehead.

"Nyota, I must ask that you refrain from being within at least six inches of my face until I have fully recovered," Spock said.

"Don't worry about me."

"No, Lieutenant, he's right. I don't need the whole damn crew getting sick. No liplocking with him until his fever is gone."

"No restrictions on locking lips with me, though," Jim said, his eyes twinkling.

"_Ass_," Uhura snapped, rounding on the Captain. "And you! You should have told me that he was sick!"

Jim took a step back. "I didn't tell you because I knew it would affect you and, by design, your job."

"You _liar_! You probably _forgot_!" she accused.

"Okay, yeah, I did," Jim said, grinning his aloof smile. "But only at first!" he added quickly, walking around the biobed. "I checked on him later and then it was late and I let everyone know the next morning!"

Spock watched with mild what may have been... what was the word... amusement? as Uhura followed Jim in circles around his biobed. This was the best that he'd felt in three days. Perhaps he should have employed Jim and Nyota to banter sooner, if he had known that it would make him feel more at ease.

The medical bay door opened again.

"Captain, ye need to get back to the pad! I've got important things to do with me time than sit around waitin' on ye to come back!" Scotty announced as he walked into the Sickbay.

"Oh, why don't we all just have a party in Sickbay..." McCoy muttered.

Spock looked at Jim. "You are on duty. Were you not exploring the developing planet today?"

"I was," Jim said slowly. "But Chekov happened to say that you were awake and I figured I'd see you before I left."

"That is... illogical. I do not understand the reasoning behind your choice. Orders from Starfleet are more important than my health."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Spock, I know. I just thought, oh, you know, just in case I happen to get laid flat during reconnaissance, I might want to make sure that you haven't died yet, either."

"The planet is not classified as dangerous," Spock said, his tone puzzled.

"Captain, while we're all pleased that Mr. Spock is on warp speed to being healthy again- good to see ye better, by the way, Commander-, I'm just about ready to say stuff all me involvement in the mission if you don't come back with me now!" Scotty said hotly. "We have a schedule! And I have technical journals! Captain, you have to understand!"

"Yeah, alright, I'm coming!" Jim said, looking back at Spock. "Just tell Bones to get you whatever you need. Bones, do whatever he wants but don't let him leave."

"Oh, he won't be leaving," McCoy said.

"I concur," Spock added. "I do not feel like leaving the medical bay at this moment."

"Well, that's... not good, but not bad, either, is it?" Jim asked.

"Would everybody just get out?!" McCoy demanded. "This is a medical bay and unless you have a medical _issue_- or would like to have one- you have no reason to be here! The Commander needs his rest; he's better but he's still ill, so everybody just clear out!"

"Yes, _sir!_" Kirk said, his tone playful. He snapped a salute to McCoy and looked at Uhura. "Back to the Bridge, Lieutenant. We're going to need you."

"Yes, sir..." Uhura turned to Spock. "I'll visit later... Get some rest, Spock."

Before Spock could say anything else, Uhura's lips descended softly upon his. He didn't return the favour and made to turn his head away, but she pulled away before he could.

"You will catch my flu," Spock murmured.

"It's a risk I'll take," she said.

"Lieutenant!"

"Yes, Captain!" she called, before turning to stride after Jim and Scotty.

McCoy sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "Honestly. Sometimes I feel like they're trying to drive me crazy. And the Lieutenant, slinging saliva about as though she _wants_ the flu..."

Spock settled back against the pillows. "Their intentions are good, Doctor."

McCoy looked at him. "Oh, I know. It doesn't change the fact that they're going to make more work for me... It's like watching a bunch of damn kids."

Spock closed his eyes, getting comfortable. "Be that as it may... I believe that you were offering me the use of a sedative before everyone arrived, but I will have to decline. I prefer to fall asleep without the use of sleeping hyposprays, especially given the fact that they make me nauseous."

"If you say so. Go back to sleep. We'll monitor your vitals."

"As you wish, Doctor."

* * *

**I _love_ writing Chekov- even though it makes my format and grammar skills self-combust, it is _so_ fun to try and write his Russian accent. Scotty's a bit more difficult, but I had to throw a bit about technical journals in. Really, just a lightheaded chapter showcasing the family-like vibe of everyone on the _Enterprise_. Some Jim&Spock in the next chapter, and then the _real_ action begins. Like not just sick!fic. Real _Star Trek_ action.**

**Also, to note- this is set somewhere in between the first and second movie. I believe that someone in the reviews guessed at that, and I am reaffirming the point. Spock is not quite sure about the meaning of friendship at this moment. Just saying that in preparation for upcoming chapters.**

**I do not own _Star Trek_. Thank you!**


	6. Bonding in Sickbay

Spock woke up feeling remarkably better.

The sore throat was gone, the pounding behind his eyes had stopped, and he was even able to sit up without pain accompanying the motion. He was clearly getting better.

He was glad.

Currently, he was sitting in his biobed in the medical bay, listening to Jim talk excitedly about the new planet. He was working his way through another bowl of Plomeek soup and had a cup of Vulcan tea steaming next to him. All three things were doing well in assisting his fever.

He put the spoon in his mouth thoughtfully, frowning as he visualized the planet Jim was describing.

* * *

Jim had fallen asleep.

His arms were folded on Spock's mattress and his head resting on his arms, snoring as he sat in the chair next to the bed.

Spock had had dinner, finished listening to Jim's interesting ship log, and watched as the Captain dozed off. He had told him that he would inevitably end up falling asleep, sitting in the visitor's chair, but Kirk had waved him off.

Jim had ended up falling asleep as it were, his head resting on the biobed, his snores echoing in the empty medical bay.

Spock took the time to unobtrusively watch him.

There was much that he had to learn about the concept of friendship. Emotions were things that conflicted him, things that had conflicted him since he was a young child. It was not a particularly welcoming notion when he found his emotions just beneath the surface, waiting to spill out.

Choosing to feel was a slippery slope. It could be worth it in the long run, but the suffering that came with it was far too much to handle.

When his mother had been murdered, there had been... shock. Sadness, even, for a flickering moment, before Spock had closed off all emotional ties and returned to the work.

Emotion defied logic and logic was what defined Vulcans.

However, emotion defined _humans_, and he was half of each. He was a part of both worlds, but he had to be a singularity. He had to choose to feel... or he had to choose to relinquish all emotion to logic.

And then James Tiberius Kirk had come along, spitting words of poison into Spock's face after that fateful day on Vulcan, and he had destroyed his wall of choosing not to feel. Anger, mind-numbing and terrifyingly powerful, had swelled deep within him and threatened to spill over.

Nyota Uhura made Spock feel something akin to love- if Vulcans were capable of such things and Spock knew that they were- and the flippant disregard for Regulation on this ship often made him disgruntled. Even humour, something totally unknown to Spock at a time, had made its way into his life in the form of watching his Captain be chewed out by his girlfriend.

There were still many emotions that Spock did not know of. Fear, for instance. He had never felt real fear. Sadness- not a muted one- was foreign and he was glad to keep it that way.

And friendship... Friendship was an entire different story that Spock definitely did _not_ understand.

Friends cared for friends, yes, but to what end?

He and Nyota were lovers. That was easily explained. Love was complex, but strangely simple to understand the basics of.

But friendship...

Jim considered him a friend. Spock knew this. But yet, he wasn't sure if he reciprocated because he didn't _understand_ what the meaning behind it stated. Jim was his Captain. He trusted him with his life, which many people would call foolish, but was that what friendship was? Loyalty?

It was a fascinating idea, but Spock didn't know the answer for sure.

"Stop staring at me..."

Spock blinked back to reality, eyes focussing on Jim.

The Captain had moved slightly, had raised his head from his arms and was now resting his chin on his arm instead. His eyes were exhausted and slightly annoyed.

"Apologies," Spock said. "I did not mean to wake you."

"Yeah, well, you did," Kirk murmured tiredly, stretching his arms. "Oh... How long have I been asleep?"

"Almost two hours."

"Hell." Jim ruffled his hair and sat up straight. "How are you feeling?"

"I am feeling better than I have in the previous days."

"Good." Jim yawned widely, rubbing his eyes. "Did Bones leave?"

"Yes," Spock replied. "He left at 2300 hours. He did check up on me, saw you sleeping, and contemplated waking you up with a flea vaccine." He paused. "It seemed to be a joke, but I do not wholly grasp the complexity of humour..."

Kirk winced. "Oh. Ugh. No thanks."

"I suspect that this has something to do with you skulking aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise when you were not supposed to be on that particularly memorable trip."

He didn't have to explain further, he was sure.

Jim smiled tiredly, looking pleased through his exhaustion. "Yes. Another one of life's mysteries for you, Spock."

"It is not so much life that mystifies me as much as _you_ do," Spock said seriously.

"Oh, well," Jim said, standing and stretching his arms above his head, "it's good for you to not understand some things once in awhile. I'm going to bed, Spock. If you need anything-"

"I will be sure to tell the nurse," Spock said fluidly. "Return to your quarters."

Jim yawned again. "Go back to sleep. You'll probably be released in the morning."

"It is probable. Good night, Jim."

"Night," Kirk replied absently, rubbing his eyes again as he traipsed out of Sickbay.

* * *

**I implore those who are bored _not_ to give up on this story. Yes, it's boring (but still cute) right now, but the (small bit of) action does start next chapter. Action and suspense and good ol' back to the h/c. So, I implore you to stick with the story because... good things are on the way. :)**

**Additional note: if anyone notices any variation in spelling, it's because I'm so used to writing 'Brit-picked' English that it's difficult to Americanise again.**

**I do not own _Star Trek_. Thank you!**


	7. Not Beneficial to Their Health

"If you start to feel ill again-"

"I do not."

"Yes, but if you feel tired-"

"I am well-rested."

"If you need anything at all-"

"I will not, Doctor McCoy."

"Damn it, Pointy, listen to me!"

Jim laughed quietly to himself, hiding his smile by directing his attention to the radar.

"I am listening," Spock said.

"_If_ you start feeling the slightest bit off, _go back to bed_. I shouldn't even be letting you go back to work already, but you won't sit still long enough for me to barely get your temperature," Bones muttered. "Jim-"

Kirk looked over his shoulder. "Don't look at me. I can't control him and I wouldn't try to if you paid me."

"Actually, you _can_ control him- you're the Captain and you know that he listens to anything you say. Just tell him to take it easy-"

"As you seem to have forgotten, Doctor, I _am_ standing right here," Spock interrupted. "And I can hear you."

"I am not telling him anything, Bones," Jim said, joining the two standing by the door of the bridge. "He's a capable man... Vulcan. He knows his limits better than you do."

Bones snorted. "I doubt it. Both of you are jumped up action-junkies."

Kirk raised his eyebrows, noting one of Spock's eyebrows twitch up as well.

"Okay, _you're_ a jumped up action-junkie," Bones said, to Jim.

"Yeah, he follows Regulation," Jim said, nodding at Spock. "Besides, you've banned him from recon missions for the next three days. I think he'll be fine."

"What Captain Kirk says is of utmost logic," Spock said.

McCoy looked between the men before rolling his eyes. "Whatever. Both of you ganging up on me. Some praise that I get for taking care of his sick ass."

"You were wonderful, Bones. The best medical care that I've seen; _and_ your bedside manner improved a lot since you treated me last," Kirk said, his hand reaching to his neck. "I can still feel the sting where you gave me that flu vaccine..."

"Oh, shut up," Bones said, but there was a smile hiding behind his words.

(Jim had discovered something long ago; McCoy was as sensitive to flattery on his medical treatments as was any woman on her beauty. He didn't necessarily show it often and mainly countered any praise with sarcasm, but Jim knew he really did enjoy the sentiment.)

"Yes. Much appreciated," Spock said, turning away. "Now, Doctor, if you will return to your... potions-" Jim could hear the disdain behind the word and laughed out loud- "we will return to our duties as well."

"My 'potions' saved your sorry ass, _Commander_. Have a bit of respect!" McCoy demanded, but Spock had already returned to his post.

Clearly, his first officer was eager to get back to his job. Jim could sympathize. Being sick was boring; operating a spaceship wasn't.

Kirk clapped Bones on the shoulder, smiling. "You heard him, Bones. The wizard must return to his potion."

Bones rolled his eyes. "And the green-blooded hobgoblin to his post."

"And the Captain to his chair," Jim said. "Bones?"

"What?"

"Thanks," he said quietly.

Bones searched him for a moment before he nodded. "Anytime."

When the CMO had left the bridge, Kirk returned to his seat. It wasn't long before he felt a familiar presence looming over his shoulder. Looking up, eyebrows raised, Spock was standing next to him, his hands folded behind his back.

"It is regrettable that I took sick leave."

"You're lucky I'm not sending you on shore leave," Jim said seriously. "You need a break. We've been pushing the exploration for quite awhile now, coupled with culture shock and the different environments, it's no wonder your body shut down."

"My body is much more resilient than yours is, Captain."

"So? Even Vulcans can get sick."

"Rarely," Spock said. "So, what planet are we observing?"

"_We_ are observing nothing. _I_ am observing a planet at coordinates today."

"Unidentified planet?" Spock quipped, eyebrows furrowing. "It seems unwise that you will be exploring without back-up."

Jim flashed him a smile. "I didn't say I wouldn't have back-up, Commander. It just won't be you. Sulu."

"Yes, Captain?"

"Set coordinates for ."

"Aye-aye, Captain." A pause. "Coordinates locked on."

"Great. Now suit up."

"Yes, sir."

Jim looked up at Spock. "Mr. Spock?"

"I will perform my duties from the ship admirably," Spock said, striding to his seat.

* * *

_"Scotty, beam us out!"_

"The transporter can't differentiate; ye need to get away from those things!"

_"Yeah, we're trying!"_

"What _are_ those things?"

"They appear to be an unidentified species."

"No shit, Sherlock!"

_"Scotty!"_

"I can't lock on!"

"Mr. Scott, it would be wise to-"

"I'm _trying_!"

_"Beam us out!"_

"Okay, okay, okay- damn!"

"Mr. Scott?"

"I've lost them. Kirk? Captain? Sulu? Bloody 'ell, _Jim_?! Jim!"

* * *

**I _did_ say that the action would start this chapter. I just didn't say to what extent. :p I realise that this chapter is short; that will be remedied in upcoming chapters. Also, thanks to the reviewer who suggested Spock mentioning McCoy's 'potions'. :)**

**I do not own _Star Trek_. Thank you!**


	8. Taking Risks, Returning Favours

Jim had made a split decision.

He knew that they would lose signal with the _Enterprise_, but he had factored in his and Hikaru's own life and decided that losing the signal was maybe for the best.

Granted, when he had tackled Sulu into the trench into the ground, he hadn't expected just how _deep_ it was. The drop was terrifying in itself, seeming to last far too long, and that didn't even factor in the bumps and bruises along the way.

He was enveloped by cold. Cold and pain.

It swept over his entire body and it took his mind a split second to realize that they had landed in water. He immediately kicked out and swam to the surface, drawing in his breath with a gasp when he broke the surface. He looked around for Sulu, who appeared feet away, gasping for breath.

"Alright?" Kirk gasped.

"Yeah." Sulu spit out water, looking around. "Quick thinking."

"I'm sure we lost contact with our starship, too," Jim muttered, swimming for the nearby bank.

He was forcing back any panic that he was feeling. It was mostly overtaken by pain. He didn't know where and he didn't know exactly how, but there was so much _pain_... He must have twisted in his ankle in the fall, if not broken it.

He had just reached the bank when one of the creatures- large, hairy, all talons and teeth, crashed into the lake. Jim spun around and reached for his phaser- all but putting all his weight on his uninjured leg- but not before the creature started to shriek.

It spasmed in the water, thrashing and flailing. Jim kept his phaser pointed, Sulu at his side, ready for attack, but the creature gave another terrible wail before falling still.

Jim shared a raised-eyebrows glance with Sulu.

"Water's lethal to them?"

"Apparently. Great thinking on your behalf, then, Captain."

Jim lowered his phaser, sighing. "Well, not entirely. See if you can get Scotty."

He leaned back against the wall, crouching to press his fingers against his boot. Pain shot up from the mild pressure. Far more than twisted, if he had to guess. Muttering under his breath, he tried to remove his boot and didn't stop the gasp of pain when he couldn't.

"Captain?"

Jim shook his head. "Broke my ankle in the fall," he said, pushing himself to his feet. "Which is... inconvenient. Anything on the communicator?"

Sulu shook his head. "No. No signal."

"Great..." Jim blew out a deep breath. "Scout ahead. Keep your defenses close and your phaser closer. See what we're up against."

Sulu nodded. "Aye-aye."

Jim settled back against the wall, closing his eyes. He was fairly certain in his safety; Sulu was one direction and the lake was the other. The question was how they were going to get back to the ship when Jim was barely able to stand.

Reckless decisions. _Damn_ it, couldn't he manage _one_ decision without Spock by his side to keep him out of trouble? Damn know-it-all Vulcan...

* * *

"Spock, _no_."

"Doctor, you are incapable of leaving the ship due to your duties in medical bay at the present moment. It is only logical that I beam down and-"

"_Damn_ it, Spock! You've only just gotten out of Sickbay!"

Spock's stride didn't falter as he strode down the hall to the transporter pad.

Doctor McCoy had a point, Spock knew, but there was _something_ that prompted him to beam down to check up on the lost crew. He didn't exactly understand what it was, but the pull was stronger than ever to make sure that Jim, in particular, was okay.

"I will take my health into account," Spock said, entering the transportation chamber. "Mr. Scott, I need you to beam me to the latest location recieved from Kirk and Sulu's position."

"Scotty, _no_," McCoy said vehemently. "Don't listen to him! As his attending physician, I am in charge of him and I _refuse_ to let him beam down there!"

The engineer looked between Spock and McCoy. "Er... Look, I don't really want to be in the middle of this-"

"Mr. Scott, as Commander of this vessal, under Regulation of Starfleet, I order you to beam me down to Captain Kirk and Mr. Sulu's last documented position," Spock interrupted, drawing himself up to full height. "Immediately, Mr. Scott."

"And as Chief Medical Officer-"

Spock rounded on McCoy. "Probability states that if Captain Kirk had not visited my quarters during the night when my fever rose, no one would have supervised me until morning. There is a 47% possibility that my fever may have risen to a point where brain damage could have occured. 47% isn't such a remarkable number, I realize, for humans who tend not to believe in things until they reach over 50%, so take into consideration this: it is 89% probable that I would have been unconscious for far longer than I already was when Captain Kirk brought me to you. By all logical assumptions, the Captain may have saved my life- or at least, bypassed a serious illness- so do not prevent me from returning the favour, doctor."

He took a deep breath, staring emotionlessly into the doctor's face.

McCoy looked back at him evenly. His eyes were assessing, no doubt looking for any emotion. As usual, Spock knew that there was none. It was logical that he return the favour of aiding a comrade, since Jim had put so much effort into aiding him.

"... Fine," McCoy said begrudingly.

Spock wasted no time in stepping onto the transport pad, crouching down.

"But no strenuous activity unless _absolutely necessary_!" McCoy barked. "Do not even _draw_ your phaser unless necessary! And try to stay out of trouble!"

"I will strive for safety, doctor," Spock said. "Energize."

Spock stood, looking around at the new unexplored planet. The terrain was eerily quiet after the noises that had been filtering through to the _Enterprise_ from Jim's communicator.

"Spock to _Enterprise_. This is the last known coordinate of the Captain and Mr. Sulu?"

_"Right-o. We lost them nearby. Within, oh... 100 feet, if I 'ad to guess."_

"I will endeavour to gather information. Spock out."

It didn't take very long for Spock to figure out just where Kirk and Sulu had gone. There was a chasm in the ground, roughly seven feet by ten. It was very deep, Spock estimated. That had clearly been where their crew had dropped off the radar.

Spock picked up a pebble, throwing it into the chasm. There was no sound for a few, long moments before the soft _plip_ reached his sensitive Vulcan ears. Water below. Deep water. An underground lake.

"Fascinating..."

He crouched next to the chasm, fumbling with his communicator. "Spock to Captain Kirk. Do you read me?"

_"Spock? Is... you?"_

Spock settled into a sitting position at the edge of the chasm. "Are you okay?" he asked clearly.

_"... ankle... Sulu's scout..."_

"Captain, we're experiencing communication problems. I repeat: are you okay?"

_"... ankle. Other... fine."_

Broken ankle, Spock's mind supplied for him. Kirk must have broken it in the tumble down the chasm. But the 'fine' was promising. Although Spock was quite sure that Jim would say he was fine even if he was dying.

"Jim, I need you to confirm my hypothesis: there is a lake beneath the chasm?"

_"Yes-"_

"Any ill effects due to the water?"

_"None tha... of, for-"_

"Affirmative. Can you see any other way out?"

_"... 'on't know-"_

Further static followed Jim's statement. Spock frowned.

"Just a moment, Captain. Spock to _Enterprise_. I have located the Captain. They are underground indeterminate metres. Can you find an alternate route underground?"

_"Looking now. Stand by."_

"Captain, I will be forced out of communicator range. I would advise against movement."

_"Couldn... move if... to."_

Spock stood, striding away from the chasm.

The _Enterprise_ patched through to him soon into his nearby recon.

_"20 metres right from your position, Commander, and there should be an entrance to a tunnel, if our readings are correct."_

"Affirmative, _Enterprise_."

_"Exercise extreme caution. The creatures that were chasing Jim and Sulu aren't showing up on the radar, but we can't tell if there are any underground."_

"Affirmative again. Spock out."

He returned his communicator to his pocket and strode ahead with purpose.

* * *

**I don't know if communicators could lose range underground, but in watching TOS, they do lose signal sometimes, so imagine that everything is as it should be. So, Jim's (relatively) fine, Spock's fine... but now they've got a bit of a trek ahead of them before they get back to the _Enterprise_. Broken ankle and recently ill. This could end poorly.**

**I do not own _Star Trek_. Thank you!**


	9. Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired

Jim had never been so relieved in his life to see Sulu return with Spock. Spock being here meant that there was alternate route out, which meant that, as soon as they got out of this tunnel thing, they could get back to the Enterprise.

"I will go ahead. Mr. Sulu will stay behind you, in case you need a leg up," Spock was saying. "One moment."

Jim leaned heavily against Sulu, watching as Spock found seemingly invisible footholds in the dirt and climbed the short distance up the hole in the ground. The entrance was only about ten feet off the ground- not too tall, but difficult to manage with a broken ankle. Jim shifted his weight impatiently.

"Hurry up, Spock. I'm starting to feel weird," he said.

It was the truth. While his ankle was _killing_ him, he could fend off the pain fairly well. Sure, he complained when Bones gave him hypos, but real pain? He was the Captain of a starship. He couldn't complain about every nick and scratch.

No, it was more than the broken ankle. He was starting to feel light-headed, seeing things that weren't really there. Black flutters drew his vision aside, only to find nothing looking back at him. He felt tired and clunky. His clothes were soaking wet, cold, and clinging to his skin. He desperately longed for the fresh air of the planet outside of their tunnel.

"There is a small ledge approximately a foot and a half above your location. Find it and Mr. Sulu can support you," Spock instructed. "Explain your symptoms of 'feeling weird', as you put it."

Kirk carefully found the ledge, feeling terribly off balance as he tried to keep his weight off his bad ankle. Sulu had his hand against the small of his back, preventing him from falling backwards, but it didn't help the light-headedness.

"Light-headed," Jim said, finding another hold for his hand to pull himself up. "Visual hallucinations. Fatigue. As you would say, general 'Captain, you are pushing your body too far'..."

He reached up, took Spock's offered hand. The Vulcan's hands were surprisingly cool to the touch. Jim made a note to ask about it later.

It took a bit of clamouring and probably much more effort on Spock's behalf than the Vulcan would ever admit, but Jim was soon on the surface of the planet again. He drew in a deep breath, noting that it did not seem to appease his lack of oxygen.

"The atmosphere here is not dissimilar to that of Vulcan's. The air is thin. And we have yet to test the water sample that you collected..." Spock trailed off, flipping open his communicator. "Spock to Enterprise. Prepare pad for landing party."

Sulu joined them. "It's not just you, Captain. The visual hallucinations are happening to me, too," he said, dusting his uniform off. "And dizziness."

"Great," Jim said glumly, kicking a rock. It bounced along the ground before hitting the trunk of a dying tree, crumbling into a puff of dusty pieces. "What is _with_ this place?"

"It would appear that everything has a limited life span. It could be that this planet is, essentially, poison," Spock said slowly. "The unidentified species. Their reaction with the water. If you and Mr. Sulu are feeling ill, the only stimuli you were exposed to was the water. Perhaps the water is poison and, by design, disintegrates everything that it touches."

_"Locked on to your position. Don't move,"_ Scotty's voice, through Spock's communicator, said.

Jim took the communicator from Spock. "Tell Bones that we're going to need examined. And that we have water analysis that must be completed ASAP."

_"Aye-aye."_

* * *

The silence of Sickbay was broken by harsh coughing.

"Damn stubborn, pointy-eared, green-blooded bastard..." McCoy muttered, rushing to Spock's cubicle.

It had started from the moment that Spock had re-energized onto the Enterprise. He had taken a breath of clean air, Enterprise air, and immediately started coughing. As did Jim and Sulu, all gasping for breath by the time that they were rushed into the medical bay.

McCoy had hastened with his tricorder and gave them all a dose of tri-ox, which would help them breathe, and a generalized antihistamine, if he was correct.

"I suspect that the planet lingers more on death than life," Spock said, in between coughing. "I believe that there is some kind of poison. I should-"

"_Lay down_," McCoy growled, pushing the Vulcan back and putting the hypospray to his arm. "Stop moving. They're already analysing it."

Spock draw in another deep breath, pleased when this one seemed to reach entirely to his lungs.

Odd, it was, that the planet should have affected him with no advance warning like hallucinations or dizziness. Not impossible, merely improbable. Both Sulu and Jim had been administered the tri-ox almost ninety seconds ago and they were still coughing. It had only taken upwards of ten seconds for Spock to notice a difference and, while the nausea that always accompanied hyposprays unsettled his stomach quickly, his coughing diminished.

"The detox went fine," McCoy was saying- he was already back at Jim's bed, talking to Nurse Chapel. "They're both clear, but oxygen sat. levels are way down and respiration low. Damn it, Jim! I told Pointy to take it easy and you're all in here now!"

"Well... someone has to... keep you busy," Jim gasped, humour laced with breathlessness.

"I could do with a boring day now and then! I'm a doctor, not a... _babysitter_. " McCoy paused as he looked at Jim's stats, eyes flickering to Sulu's nearby. "No change. _Damn it_."

McCoy strode away from the beds in annoyance, vanishing out of Spock's line of sight.

Spock sighed. The breath had reached its maximum capacity and he was no longer feeling weak. But it was so _cold_. Neither Jim nor Sulu had complained and he wondered if it were perhaps a Vulcan reaction. He would not entertain the possibility that his illness was relapsing due to the mild exertion that had occurred during his rescue mission. He would not.

He watched dully for awhile as McCoy and the Nurse paced back and forth, working on Jim and Sulu's stats. After a few more hypos, they started to level out. Their breathing returned to normal and Spock didn't know much of what happened afterwards because McCoy gave him a sedative.

When he woke up, the medical bay was darkened and empty- all except for one bed.

Jim was sprawled out across the biobed next to him, arm dangling off the mattress. He was snoring audibly, dark shadows highlighting his closed eyes.

Spock's eyes travelled to the stats next to the bed, noting that their Captain's respiration and oxygen saturation levels were back where they should be. There was a slight elevation of temperature- a low grade fever.

Sulu was nowhere in sight, so Spock could only assume that he had recovered and been dismissed back to his quarters. Jim had mostly likely been kept overnight due to the temperature and the broken ankle, the latter of which was propped up on a pillow at the end of the bed, no cast.

Spock coughed, muffling it against his hand. His eyes slowly travelled to his own stats, checking his temperature. Elevated, even though the medical bay was cooler than normal. With a slight shiver, Spock shuffled further under the thin blanket and closed his eyes.

Jim was hurt and ill.

Spock was seemingly ill (again).

At this rate, they were going to end up on shore leave and that was the _last_ thing that Spock wanted to deal with right now.

Another tickling sensation in his throat made Spock cover his mouth again, but the tickle was not so easily placated. He coughed roughly, ribcage aching with the motion. The terrifying moment was when it didn't stop and he struggled to draw in a deep breath.

"Spock...?"

Jim's voice was thick with sleep, with confusion layering the exhaustion. When Spock looked towards him, he found that the Captain had propped himself up on one elbow and his eyes were gleaming at him, two pinpoints in the otherwise almost darkness.

"Forgive me. I did-" His apology died on his lips between the coughing and the gasping for breath. There was a sickening moment where he thought for sure that he was about to pass out if he didn't get another breath of air.

"Spock!"

Jim's voice was more insistent this time. Spock couldn't answer.

He just squeezed his eyes together tightly, his fingers pressed against his chest. He continued to cough, struggling to breathe, until he was aware of movement and a hypospray was pressed against his neck with a sharp sting.

_Tri-ox_, his mind supplied, and his lungs tended to agree. They returned to their proper functions, absorbing the oxygen and distributing it.

He couldn't see past the black dots littering his vision at this point, so he didn't know who had administered the tri-ox, but it was helping.

"... Thank you," he murmured, drawing in a deep breath.

"Green-blooded hobgoblin... Jim, get back in bed!" barked a voice that could only belong to Doctor McCoy. "Since we're all awake now, I may as well cast that ankle."

"In a minute," Jim said dismissively.

It took Spock a few moments to realise that the Captain was standing at his bedside, his weight shifted entirely on his good leg. He looked worried.

"Worry is unnecessary," Spock murmured, swallowing back the nausea that came with a hypospray and the inability to breathe properly earlier. "I will be fine..."

No more than had he said it, his stomach seized up again. Instinct dictated that he didn't vomit on himself, so the next available option was the floor. He would blame Doctor McCoy later- nausea was only product of the hypo.

Jim yelped and stumbled back a few steps, falling back onto his own biobed. "_Gross!_"

For being a captain of a starship, Spock thought, Jim's lack of capacity to react in a sophisticated manner to potentially disgusting stimuli was astounding. And, if he were being truthful, even a bit humorous. But Spock didn't feel like laughing, now less than ever.

"Apologies..." he murmured, swallowing audibly. The world was still spinning around the edges and he didn't trust himself to speak past a few words.

"Oh, for the love of- Someone clean this up!" Doctor McCoy's voice snapped, nearby again. Spock was fully prepared for a tongue-lashing; Doctor McCoy found it necessary to confront all of the problems he had with Spock, although the Vulcan was fairly sure that it was on 'good terms'. Playful banter, Uhura had called it. Spock didn't understand the meaning but he wondered if it had anything to do with admiration.

However, McCoy's voice dropped when he stepped next to Spock's side. "Spock, you need to lay back down. Your internal temperature's at thirty-nine and a half and the effects of the planet are still... effecting you."

"Damn, Bones, you've got a way with words," Jim said.

"Shut up, Jim, I'll take care of you in a minute. Remind yourself that I'm about to put a cast on your injured foot before you make any smart remarks."

Jim gave a overly-dramatic sigh, but Spock caught the small smile on his Captain's face before Doctor McCoy stepped in his way.

"Don't freak out now. I'm going to check you lymph nodes," McCoy said.

Spock inhaled and nodded his assent. He could still remember the first physical that McCoy had given him. Spock had been rather unprepared for the intrusion upon his personal boundaries with no senior medical officer in sight. Of course routine physicals were required every now and then at Starfleet Academy itself, but, at the time, McCoy had been only new to missions and... Well, Vulcans were telepaths and telepaths didn't like to be touched.

Besides, he had been used to his own personal physician- someone who had been very well versed on Vulcan biology, anatomy, and chemistry.

Spock rest his head back against the standard-issued medical bay pillow, trying to ignore the crawling feeling of McCoy's fingers against his neck.

"Hey, Spock?" Jim's voice.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Does touch really bug you so much?"

"Well, he's as tense as a Laudarian coiled eel, so I'd venture a guess as to a damn big ol' 'yes'."

Spock shifted uncomfortably. "It tends to unnerve me."

"Well, Bones _is_ unnerving," Jim said, laughter in his voice. Clearly, he had gotten over the almost being vomited on scandal.

"I suggest you shut up," Bones said, "before I give you a vaccine that you really don't want the symptoms of."

"Malpractice and threats, Bones. This is beneath you."

There was now a smile threatening to break past McCoy's interested façade, just the slightest upward lift of the corners of his mouth. But he didn't call back on the banter, just removed his hands from Spock's lymph nodes.

"Alright. Those are fine. No other infection present, as far as the trained medical eye can see. It's just the fever... probably back because you went out on that stupid mission," McCoy muttered.

"It was necessary," Spock said simply.

"Necessary, my ass," McCoy muttered, although he said nothing more on the matter. Spock was infinitely grateful. He didn't want to have to explain why he had been so compelled to make sure that Jim had been alright... Mostly because he didn't know how to explain it to himself.

"He still has a pretty remarkable fever," Jim commented.

"Yes. I gave him a hypo earlier for it. It doesn't seem to be having much of an effect. He just needs rest. And you," McCoy said, turning to Jim, "are going to get a cast on that foot. Get up, we're getting another x-ray."

Kirk sighed and clumsily pushed himself to his feet again. "Fine. Let's get this over with. Spock, go back to sleep. That's an order."

Spock resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but did let his eyelids flutter closed. He knew that Doctor McCoy was correct- Spock only needed rest. He hoped.

He opened his eyes almost immediately, struggling to push him into a sitting position.

"Spock-"

"Doctor McCoy-" he started, but Kirk cut him off.

"He's gonna hurl."

Unwelcome human slang aside, that was generally the point and Kirk got it across beautifully. McCoy swept the trash can off the floor and plunked it into Spock's lap just a half second before he vomited. He didn't know if he was more humiliated or relieved.

"Yuck." Kirk moved away. "Bones, let's do this ankle thing. I don't want to sit around and watch him puke. Sorry," he added, to Spock.

Spock shook his head. "It is a logical request. I will be fine."

Even if he didn't feel like it. Even if he felt like crawling back to his quarters and curling up and sleeping for a week. This had to be worse than any Vulcanian strain of the flu... Not that he wanted to test _that_ theory.

Sighing thinly, Spock set the trash can down. He settled back against the pillows, willing the illness away.

Mental power- nor logic- had much effect on the flu, it seemed.

* * *

**Lots going on here. Thank you to the person who suggested having Spock throw up on Jim... not quite what I wrote, but the idea influenced the _almost_ puking on Jim bit. For the person who mentioned that Vulcanian isn't a word- I believe someone mentioned this- it is indeed a word. It was used several times in _The Original Series_. :)**

**One more chapter in this story. Abrupt, I know. But it's the way that the story flowed, so, one more chapter. Don't worry. I'll be writing another sick!Spock... as soon as I finish a few other stories.**

**I do not own _Star Trek_. Thank you!**


	10. The Humour Behind 'You're Welcome'

He was awoken by swearing. A long barrage of swear words, some an amalgamation of words that Spock had never heard of before, in a pained voice that belonged to Kirk.

Spock groped for his phaser out of instinct before remembering where he was. The medical bay. He was ill, Kirk was injured.

"Fucking _hell_, Bones." Kirk's voice was still pained. "Did you have to do that?"

"You know that I had to. Stop complaining and hold still."

Spock directed his gaze towards the voices. Kirk was sitting on the nearby biobed, irritably rubbing his cheeks. There were tear tracks visible. Clearly, whatever had happened had surpassed Kirk's pain tolerance.

"If you hadn't screwed it up, dammit, we wouldn've had to set it again."

"Ugh... Couldn't you have given me something?"

"For setting a bone? No. Advances in medicine can only stretch so much."

Kirk breathed out heavily. "Shit... Alright. I think I'm alright."

"I didn't doubt that you were. I'm going to start the cast. Stay put."

McCoy turned and walked away.

Spock stretched slightly, clenching his teeth against a sigh.

Kirk met his gaze, seeming to just realise that Spock was awake. "Blame Bones."

"Blame your vocal cords!" McCoy's voice said loudly.

"I blame you and medicine!"

Spock sighed and curled onto his side. He had little tolerance for their playful banter, especially not when he had initially woken up thinking that something terrible was happening to Jim.

* * *

Jim kept his eyes on Spock in amusement as the Vulcan rolled over with his back to them. He did feel bad about waking him up- he was more worried about Spock than he would let on to the stubborn Commander- but he couldn't help but grin at the childish display.

Still, he felt a bit bad. Spock needed his sleep.

"Can't you give him a sedative?" he asked, looking at Bones as he returned.

"I could but they make him feel worse. Nauseous."

"Yeah. But he'd be asleep."

"Dammit, Jim! Stop trying to get me to help when he doesn't want it! It's bad enough that I've got to help the hobgoblin when he's not ill..." he trailed off, muttering under his breath.

Jim knew it was all a show. Sure, Bones and Spock didn't get on well, as far as anyone knew, but Bones cared about Spock and Spock... cared as much as he could about Bones. They just didn't know how to show it, so they acted out. Jim understood it all too well. He thought it was endearing, although he wouldn't say that to either Bones _or_ Spock lest he get his head knocked off.

"Oh, come on, Bones, you know you care for him," he teased, however.

"I know he makes this place interes- _fascinating_," Bones mocked, working on the plaster. "I have to give him that."

"He's unique," Jim agreed. "He makes my starship unique. I've got the best damn Commander out there and he's a Vulcan. Talk about standing out."

"Illness has not clouded my ability to hear," Spock's voice said suddenly.

Jim laughed and even Bones cracked a wry smile.

"Sorry, Spock. We'll shut up," Jim said.

Spock sighed in response, drawing the blanket over his shoulder.

Kirk looked back at Bones, smiling.

* * *

Kirk winced as Spock sneezed.

Hearing a Vulcan sneeze made Kirk want to run to a wholly different part of the ship, put on a mask, and douse himself in antibacterial hand sanitizer. It was just... gross, it was gross. He wasn't a germophobe by any sense of the word, but hearing a Vulcan sneeze? It was really _freaking him out_.

Still, there was nothing to be done. The fever had gone after two days, leaving Spock with the symptoms of the common cold. Sniffling, sneezing, sore throat, lethargy. He had returned to his duties, but Kirk made sure that he slept _every_ night (or Kirk just assumed that he slept when he was forced to his quarters. He always looked too exhausted to argue) and that he kept his hands to his own work, not spreading his germs around.

"Captain..."

Kirk looked up, his attention distracted by information flashing by on his PADD. "Yeah?" When he received no response, he looked up with knitted eyebrows. "What do- oh. Spock. You're relieved." He looked away again, assuming that Spock had interrupted him in favour of asking to be dismissed.

It had been almost a week since Spock's fever had gone away, but it wouldn't have been the first time that Kirk had demanded he leave halfway through shift or that Spock had admitted that he needed to be dismissed for the safety of the ship. Bones's hypos left Spock either nauseous or tired, depending on what hypo it was. Kirk didn't care. Whatever it took for Spock's health to be good again.

"I do not wish to be dismissed," Spock said, his voice sounding just a touch annoyed.

"Oh. What then?" Kirk looked up again. He noted that Spock looked vaguely uncomfortable. Or what could be called uncomfortable by the Vulcan standards. Kirk gave him his full attention. "What's going on, Spock?"

"I believe that it is customary to express gratitude for favours given," Spock said, his voice even more flat than it was in casual conversation.

Kirk's eyebrows hitched up. "What?"

Spock gave him a look of annoyance with his gaze and his eyebrows. "Accept my gratitude for... assisting me while I was ill," he said stiffly.

Kirk stared at the Vulcan before smiling slightly. "You know, it would be a lot easier just to say 'thank you'," he reminded. "And not all this 'accept my gratitude' bullshit."

"The point is wholly the same. The words I use to express it should not matter."

"If you say so," Kirk said teasingly.

Spock's lips twitched towards the slightest frown. "I judge from your tone of voice that you are mocking me, Captain."

Kirk grinned, looking back to his PADD. "Nah. Why would I do that?"

"I do not know, but yet you are."

"Of course I'm not. That would be silly. Totally unprofessional of me."

Whatever Spock had been about to say was interrupted by a loud sneeze. Kirk flinched away so fast that his chair spun with the movement as Spock managed to sneeze into the crook of his own arm and not all over Kirk or the chair.

"Apology accepted; now go away!" Kirk demanded, still leaning away.

Spock turned away, although Kirk could have _sworn_ that he saw the slight hint of a smile tugging at Spock's lips. Spock didn't smile, so Kirk must have been imagining it. Had to be.

"You know, you aren't going to get out of the apology so easily with Bones," Kirk muttered. "He's going to _really_ enjoy it."

Spock rubbed his nose with a tissue, staring at Kirk with slightly bloodshot eyes.

Kirk smirked and looked again to his PADD.

"Captain?"

"Hmm?"

"Concerning my health, I have been compromised and am no longer fit for duty today. I wish to be relieved at this time in order to return to my quarters."

Kirk just laughed. "Sure, Spock. Whatever you say..."

* * *

**Pardon the short chapter, but this was a great place for the story to end, in my opinion. Like I mentioned before, I'll be writing another Spock sick!fic when a muse strikes. In the meantime, I have other _Star Trek_ fanfic plans. :)**

**Thank you for all the follows, the favourites, and the reviews. They mean so much. For my first Trek story, I'm absolutely chuffed that it garnered this attention. Thank you all very much.**

**I do not own _Star Trek_, as usual. Thank you!**


End file.
